


My Monster Myself

by EmmaLennyEddie



Category: Fanboy & Chum Chum (Cartoon)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Mental Health Issues, Mental Institutions, all sorts of problems!, it ain't for the faint
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-06
Updated: 2020-04-26
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:14:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23512966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmmaLennyEddie/pseuds/EmmaLennyEddie
Summary: This is NOT for the faint of heart, you understand.
Comments: 9
Kudos: 12





	1. Chum Chum's End

Chapter One

  
Fanboy's life began at age six—that's as far back as his memory went—and ended at age twelve. In those six years, Fanboy tried to make up for those unconscious ones by living life to the fullest. He was fiercely energetic, easygoing, and cheerful. In addition, he was determined to bury his mystery years under a mountain of adventures and fun.

  
In the sleepy little town of Galaxy Hills, Fanboy ran and played like the wild child he was. He trampled the school grounds with Chum Chum, his imaginary sidekick, in tow until he gasped for air, the sun beating down on him as his dirty converse pounded on the asphalt. His schoolmates gave him a wide berth, but he didn't mind. He was oblivious.

  
He had a lively imagination. He made-believe all the time. That was when the adults grew concerned. It was normal for a young child to have an imaginary friend, but when Fanboy held onto this notion for years with such intensity, people began to realize that something was off.

  
It got worse at the start of 2nd grade. Fanboy had insisted on saving an empty desk for Chum Chum, denying another child that seat. After being scolded, Fanboy sulked and sat imaginary friend on his lap for the rest of the year, carefully slipping in and out of his desk before sprinting outside. From then on, at the start of every school year, he'd insist on saving a seat for his best friend. Choosing battles was easier than putting a foot down, so the teachers allowed him to sink further into his daydreams.

  
Said teachers were initially worried about Fanboy's oddness. They eventually chalked it up to his immaturity and refusal to apply himself. His classmates, save Yo, avoided him like the plague, but he didn't mind. He had Chum Chum.

  
Every day brought a new adventure that only he could see. It may have seemed harmless at first, but it soon became dangerous and impulsive as he grew older.

  
Up in the water tower that stood proudly in the heart of the town, Fanboy lived alone without parental supervision. The closest thing he had to a father figure was Oz, the comic store owner who lived below, and Oz's mother was the closest thing he had to a mother. Nobody knew how Fanboy felt about his absent family. When asked, he would shrug and change the subject. If pressed, he would grow agitated. If pushed any further, he would either shut down entirely or let out a growl of frustration before running off.

  
Today, the sun peaked over the mountains to brighten the cloudless sky. Fanboy lay practically smothered in blankets, snoring softly. Beside his bed was another, reserved for one Chum Chum. It was silent, save for the ticking of his alarm clock. He slept soundly, but when the alarm clock blared, his green eyes popped open. Grinning, Fanboy shot out of bed like a cannonball and sang his daily "Together" hymn with Chum Chum by his side.

  
The boys sang loudly as they slid down the pale green slide that led to the living room to finish their song with an excessive dramatic flourish.

"Hoo-boy!" Fanboy panted cheerily, stretching a bit. "Think I snagged a vocal cord on that last part."

  
"Ouch!" Chum Chum winced, tugging on his cape. "C'mon, let's get some breakfast. Man-Arctic Crunch is calling my name!"

  
After chowing down at least five bowls of his favorite cereal, Fanboy leaned back and fanned his masked face.

  
"Sheesh, it's like a billion degrees in here!" He glanced at the thermostat on the wall, gasping when the red filled up and burst. Determined, Fanboy stood.

"That's it; we gotta cool off. Wanna go to the Frosty Mart and surprise Lenny?" He asked mischievously. Chum Chum shoved the last bit of Man-Arctic Crunch in his mouth and hopped down from his seat.

  
"Sure! Why not?"

  
Fanboy shrugged. "Or we could play a board game. Mr. Unicorn's Teddy Bear Dress Up Fashion Show, anyone?"

  
Chum Chum retched in disgust. "Nobody! Duly noted," Fanboy conceded. They both shuddered. The poor game had only been used once before it was shoved behind ALL of their board games.

  
"Let's run! I don't wanna melt before we get there."

  
"Wanna race?" Chum Chum suggested, smiling excitedly. Fanboy grinned and fist-bumped the other boy.

  
"Don't mind if I do."

  
...

  
Side by side, the two boys sprinted across the street to where their favorite place in the world, was waiting for them. Inside, comics crowded the racks, video games ran cheap (if you could get past Boog), and to top it off: Frosty Freezy Freezes, the heavenly slushy.

  
"I'm gonna win!"

  
"No, I will!"

  
"No, me!"

  
"No, ME!"

  
Both boys laughed at the top of their lungs as they tried to trip each other up. The dreadfully hot sun beat down like a vice, but they pressed on. The shorter boy could hardly keep up with his friend, and as the sun continued its assault, he began to gasp.

  
Fanboy grinned and sped off faster and faster down the street, ignoring his aching legs and pounding heart.

  
It was only when the pounding of two pairs of feet became one that the older boy paused to check on his friend.

  
"Ha! Forfeiting at last," he panted, bending down to support himself on his knees. "Good race, Bud. I'll carry you."

  
Chum Chum waved off his friend. "No," he coughed. "It's fine-! I don't need help."

  
Fanboy smiled kindly. "Hey, don't deny my muscles a chance to flex!" He joked, briefly taking into account that they were in the middle of the road.

  
Chum Chum nodded. "O-Okay. But put me down before we get inside."

  
"Right, right!" Fanboy giggled. Approaching his friend, he outstretched his arms.

  
Just as he was about to embrace the other boy, the screeching of tires assaulted his ears. He jumped as reflective metal slammed Chum Chum out of view, causing him to throw himself backward and scream. The car came to an abrupt stop. Then, silence.

  
Fanboy stared at his reflection on the shiny door, shocked into stillness. His mouth opened and closed a few times before he finally got it to work, and it took even longer to get his shaking limbs to move.

  
"Hu…Huh…Huh?" He croaked, unaware of the sharp burning on his face until then. With trembling fingers, he reached up and touched his cheek, pulling them away to find them drenched with blood. A gash about the size of his palm scarred his cheek right below his eye. The car door had a new scratch streaked with blood.

  
"Ch…Chum?" He rasped. His cheekbone was in agony, but he was far more concerned for the well-being of his best friend.

  
Dazed, Fanboy stood wobbling to stare at the perpetrator driving the orange-colored vehicle. It was Boog, a Frosty Mart employee who always picked on him and Chum Chum. His usually confident, chiseled face was chalk-white with shock.

  
"W-W-Whaddaya hanging in th' road fo, you DWEEB?" He yelled, slamming his massive shaking fists on the wheel.

  
Waves of adrenaline began to shoot up Fanboy's spine. His brain hadn't quite put the pieces together, even as he dropped to his hands and knees to start searching for his little companion.

  
Boog leaned out the car window and glared. "STAY PUT!" He ordered, pulling out his Chimp-Chomp themed cellphone. "And don't you FAKE anything, got it? I got a dashcam fo' a reason!"

  
"Ch-Chum?" Fanboy cried out as he circled the car. He checked behind each wheel, hoping to find his buddy's round, scared little face, but he found nothing.  
Fanboy screeched as soon as it clicked. "WHERE IS HE?!"

  
Boog flinched. "Dude, you're fine!" He tried to assure. "It-It's just a scratch. Chill out."

  
Fanboy paid no attention. "WHERE. IS. HE?" He heaved.

  
"H-Huh?" Boog stuttered as the boy's crazed pinpoints bore into his. For once, he was at a loss for words. Fanboy gripped the windowsill with his gloved hands and leaned in close to the man, who jolted and leaned back out of reach.

  
When the older teen failed to give an immediate answer, Fanboy kicked the car with all his might and made a significant dent. "DON'T YOU HOLD OUT ON ME, BOOG!" Worried for his car's condition and suspicion that dent may arouse, Boog pointed.

  
"Th-There. Right there," Boog supplied.

  
Fanboy's vision went fuzzy until he saw Chum Chum's body, curled up on the street.

  
With a terrified gasp, he sprinted towards his friend. Boog watched from the car, unsure. His first impulse was to drive away, but the kid was still in the middle of the road having a panic attack. He swallowed hard. He needed to call for help.

  
Fanboy quickly kneeled next to Chum Chum's body and gaped. A deep gash ran along the side of his skull. His eyes were closed. He wasn't moving. Fanboy choked back a cry as he stared at the bleeding wound.

  
"Chum Chum!" Fanboy squeaked, shaking the sidekick's shoulder. "Chum Chum?! ANSWER ME!" When the younger boy didn't respond, Fanboy pressed his gloved hand over the wound, desperate to stop the bleeding.

  
"Buddy, come on!"

No response. Fanboy whimpered, his stomach churning.

  
"Please, no…" Fanboy whispered. He began to panic when the blood streamed down Chum Chum's face and onto the rough street pavement. He had to try something else, but couldn't move his friend in fear of injuring him more.

  
"BOOG!" Fanboy removed his hand from the wound, jumped up, and recklessly darted his way back to the orange-colored vehicle. Boog gulped as the male advanced. "You have to help me! He's bleeding! He won't wake up!" The boy yelled, his fingers clenching the windowsill.

  
Nodding nervously, Boog dialed 9-1-1. Fanboy swallowed hard and sprinted back to his friend while Boog ordered an ambulance.

  
"Please, just send somebody over!" Boog hissed into the phone. "It's the same kid as last time. But now, he's going bananas in the middle of the road!"

  
Fanboy's application of pressure did nothing to staunch the blood flow. It was everywhere, staining his skin and attire. He began to feel lightheaded. With an audible gurgle, he clumsily stumbled away from his dying friend, tripping over his own feet and collapsing on the ground beside the curb.

  
Before long, the long wails of sirens filled the air. Fanboy continued to heave helplessly, skinny body twitching against the asphalt road. A single ambulance and police car swerved and stopped next to his friend. The doors of the ambulance quickly opened and out stepped a small medical team. A policeman approached a now lamenting Boog and began to take notes.

  
Fanboy's hope instantly deflated when the paramedics passed by Chum Chum as if he were invisible. Instead, they walked toward him. A few of his classmates also appeared, curious as to what all the commotion was about. They whispered, pointed, but seemed unaffected by Chum Chum's curled up body.

  
Dumbfounded, Fanboy slowly wrapped his arms around his knees to keep them from shaking and started to rock back and forth. The paramedics sat beside and started tending to him.

  
"WHAT?!" he cried. "Not me! Go to Chum Chum! He's right there!" He pointed, but the paramedics didn't listen. "Help HIM! PLEASE!"

  
"Honey, shhh," the paramedic soothed. She placed a hand over his. "You're alright."

  
"I KNOW!" He yelled, yanking his hand away. "HE'S NOT!"

  
"We're gonna need you to calm down, Son," another paramedic said sternly. "Take a deep breath."

  
He tried to get to Chum Chum, but they gripped his arms to keep him grounded. As he struggled, Fanboy caught sight of Yo, who was fighting her way through the crowd. Even she, the girl with a major infatuation with his best friend, seemed unperturbed by the body. What on Earth was going on? Fanboy shuddered in dread.

  
"Why aren't they looking at him?" He thought frantically. "Why isn't anybody helping him?" The superfan stared intently at the paramedics performing their work, checking his blood pressure, taking his temperature. Bursting into another round of tears, he gagged.

  
"Hello?" Fanboy croaked at one of the paramedics. Nobody answered. "IS HE GOING TO BE OKAY?!"

  
"Calm down," the female paramedic soothed again, handing him a small plastic cup of water. "It isn't real, Sweetie. You're safe. It's alright. You're safe."

  
"I'm fine!" Fanboy exploded, stamping his feet. "Chum Chum is NOT!" He coughed and wiped his runny nose, trying to get a glimpse of his best friend at least, but the area on the road was empty. It was as if Chum Chum had disappeared into thin air. Fanboy trembled so badly that he began to dribble.

  
"Where is he?!" He whispered, struggling to get away from the paramedics.

  
"It isn't real," the woman repeated. "It isn't real."

  
Fanboy tilted his head back and stared at the cloudless sky. The panicked cries of his best friend filled his ears, all coming together in a boisterous roar. "W-Where are you, Buddy?" He cried, looking all around for that orange costume. "Chum Chum, where are you?"

  
He went limp, feeling faint.

  
"Fanboy!"

  
Fanboy's head jerked up. Yo was yards away with the most horrible look on her face. She took no notice of the hands of some passersby's that tried to hold her back as she advanced towards Fanboy, who had slowly and fearfully begun to dart away.

  
With an earsplitting scream, Yo shouldered the paramedics aside and socked Fanboy's temple as hard as she could.

  
"Why do you keep doing this?!" She screamed, but Fanboy was too dazed to respond. "SAY something!" Appalled, the paramedics tore Yo away from the boy, shoving her down to sit against the curb while the policeman reprimanded her.

Fanboy sat numbly as the paramedics bandaged him up. Yo kept shouting at him, growing more enraged when he didn't respond.

  
Kyle, a transfer student from Britain, stepped in. "Enough of this," he growled. "Leave him be."

  
"Shut up," Yo seethed. "You wanna sugarcoat it like everyone else, Kyle?"

  
Kyle blinked. "Pardon?"

  
"If Fanboy keeps having these episodes, he'll be pushing up daisies before Thanksgiving!" Taking a deep breath, Yo went on. "Chum Chum's dead now," she growled. "Don't you see? Fanboy's freaking out because he saw Chum Chum get hit by a car and DIE. He hasn't taken ANY of his prescriptions yet," she seethed. "I oughtta know; I'm trying to HELP HIM!"

  
Kyle stared at her. "Fair. But what of his parents?"

  
"He's an orphan," Yo growled. "Remember?"

  
"…Right."

  
"I'm the one who makes sure he takes his medication," she barked, poking her own chest. "I'm the one who tries to play with him. I'M the one who was trying to take Chum Chum away from him while everyone else just encouraged it! Oz doesn't do anything to help!"

  
Kyle wasn't sure what to say. A quiet bookworm fascinated in the dark arts, he tolerated Fanboy's hyper antics at best and ignored him at least. He didn't have much comfort to offer the other boy. Not like Yo, who'd known Fanboy her whole life. "Well, then… If you want to help him, don't strike him. It'll all go to pot if you do that."

  
Yo didn't answer. Kyle awkwardly stepped back.

Yo was a very happy girl. It wasn't often she would lose her temper like this. Then again… He watched Fanboy sitting like a lump on a log and shuddered to himself. Maybe this was the last straw. Fanboy had a sunny disposition and long fuse, but when he got mad, like REALLY mad, there was always trouble. Now that his rock was gone, he was unpredictable.

  
Surrounded by paramedics, Fanboy squeezed his eyes shut and covered his ears. His mind was a dumpster fire of scary noises and thoughts that he didn't know how to express. Tears streamed down his bandaged face. One of the paramedics wrapped a comforting arm around his shoulders.

  
"I'm very sorry this is happening to you," she apologized gently. "We're going to get you help." Fanboy gaped at her. He'd heard that phrase before from where he didn't know. He giggled hysterically.

  
"No, no, no!" He buried his face in his arms as a way to muffle his sobs until he felt a different hand on his shoulder.

  
"It's okay," A lisped voice soothed. Oz. "It's going to be okay, Lil' dude." With a heart-wrenching cry, Fanboy fell into the man's open arms and sobbed.  
"O-Oz, make them help Chum Chum!" He bleated. Oz froze, and Fanboy pulled back with bloodshot eyes. "Please!" He begged sniffling.

  
Oz patted his back, at a bit of a loss for words. He wasn't a father; more of a friend. He was very irresponsible with Fanboy, allowing him to go out without permission, not setting a curfew, nor helping with schoolwork. Now, Fanboy was breaking down. Without proper treatment, Oz realized, things were going to go from bad to worse.

  
"Things are gonna be different from now on," he assured the broken, crying child, a hint of relief in his voice. "Seriously. This is it."

  
Fanboy gaped, mind going foggy. He was more than lost. He was desolate. He felt betrayed, abandoned. He hiccuped as Oz pulled him back into the hug. He continued to sob, a strange yet familiar feeling overtaking him. It was a warm fuzziness in his runny eyes and a clicking sensation in his brain, like a gear. White noise filled his ears, blocking all-natural sound.

  
Then he saw him. Chum Chum, perfectly intact and smiling happily at him. Beside the sidekick, a blurry smudge manifested and promptly swallowed up his best friend before he could say a word.

  
"CHUM CHUM!" He screamed, long and hoarse, and Oz tightened his grip.

  
"It's not real, Lil' dude. It's not real," the man desperately insisted as Fanboy struggled to pull away. "It isn't real. Seriously!"

  
"B-But—!" Fanboy yelped and pointed, begging Oz with his eyes to understand, but the man just shook his head.

  
"It isn't real."

  
Fanboy gurgled, hysteria settling in. His skin went chalk-white as he continued to balk. The smudge shimmered its way to Fanboy, who stared in disbelief. "What are you!?" Fanboy moaned aloud. Nobody seemed to notice.

  
The smudge tilted to the left and manifested a toothy smile. Fanboy jolted, and then it spoke. "Onnud?"

  
Fanboy stiffened. The voice had appeared in his mind, but the apparition's "mouth" hadn't moved. He whimpered. "O-Oz?"

  
The smudge spoke again. "Nur dna pmuj. Ffo eht rialnaf. Og won."

  
It was airy, brittle, and horrifying. Fanboy screamed and tore himself away from Oz to curl up on himself and cover his ears. Helplessly, the man cradled him in his arms and walked over to one of the paramedics. He leaned in and began whispering. Fanboy caught a few of his words: …reality… …problems… …ward… …state… institutionalized… …charge… …Tuesday… A few nods and a handshake later, the paramedics packed up their things and began to clear out.

  
"O-Oz…" Fanboy dribbled. "Chum…H-Help…"

  
Oz held him tight. "C'mon, Dude. You're staying with Mom and me tonight."

  
...

  
Fanboy sprinted into Oz's Comix spare room and slammed the door so loudly that it shook the building. He breathed heavily for a few moments before aimlessly pacing around the small area, one thought swirling about in his mind:

  
"Chum Chum is dead."

  
With tears in his eyes, Fanboy let out a gut-wrenching scream and kicked a cardboard box of figures with all his might.

  
Oz timidly entered the shop, his heart sinking as he witnessed the child break down.

  
"Dude, we need to have a family meeting."


	2. Sorry, Soup

'Beep… Beep… Beep'

Fanboy woke up in a cold sweat at the sound of the alarm clock, his blood-shot eyes popping open. He sat up quickly and clutched the blankets to his chest for a sense of security. He sat there, breathing slowly until the frantic beating of his heart slowed.

With a hazy murmur, he rubbed his eyes as the alarm droned on. He slumped back down under the covers, ignoring the alarm. He felt heavy, like a two-ton weight. Worse than that. He felt dead. Without his other half, Fanboy was nothing.

"Chum Chum," Fanboy whispered, tears sliding down his cheeks. His tongue felt floppy and dry. With a small grunt, he ripped his sweaty cowl off, exposing his damp hair to the cool early morning. He clutched at his golden-brown hair and bit his bottom lip until it bled, struggling against the urge to start crying aloud. He'd never slept alone in the Fanlair. He'd always fall asleep to the soothing white noise of Chum Chum's snores. He fell backward onto the pillow whimpering. The clocks beeps blared louder and louder. Fanboy covered his unmasked face with his arms.

"Chum Chum!" he cried.

 _'Come on!'_ Fanboy's clock beeped. ' _Up and at 'em!'_

 _'Yeah,'_ Chum Chum's clock chimed in _. 'You're going to be late!"_

 _'Up and at 'em! Up and at 'em! Up and at 'em!'_ they chanted insistently, their tones spiteful.

Fanboy gritted his teeth and glowered at the clocks. "SHUT **UP**!" he snarled, slamming his fists down to silence them. Without the sounds of laughter and song, the Fanlair felt strangely quiet. Fanboy ignored his uneasiness and settled down back under the covers, curling up into a ball, sentencing himself to bed.

Fanboy couldn't fall back to sleep. He stared at the empty bed across from him, the memories of the accident swirling around his mind like a tornado. Shutting his eyes didn't help. Every horrible detail was presented with astounding clarity, from the deep gash in Chum Chum's skull to Yo striking him to Boog's pale face.

Fanboy whined noisily as he lay curled up under the bundle of blankets, sniffing as tears gushed from his eyes. He tried to think of anything-ANYTHING but that horrible day. "Buddy…" he whispered. "Come back…"

 _Something_ laughed in amusement. It cackled in a suspiciously high-pitched voice that sounded much like his own. Fanboy jolted, fear coursing through his veins. He sat up and gaped. The shimmering smudge had materialized at the foot of the bed, floating like a lone cloud. Fanboy shook his head, slapped himself, and rubbed his eyes, but it was still there. It was unnatural, eerie even, but his curiosity got the better of him. He blinked, reached out to touch it—and then it was gone. He stilled, his erratic brain too broken to put the pieces together. It sparked and fizzed like a mess of threadbare wires. He felt like he was being watched.

" _Olleh_."

The little boy lurched at the voice, eyes darting this way and that. He jabbed a finger in his ear to clean out whatever gunk was in there before listening again.

Silence.

"H-Hello?" he called out timidly. No answer. "What am I doing?" he mumbled. "Just my imagination." With a sigh, he fell back to stare at the ceiling, only to come face to face with the shimmering cloud of smudge.

" _Fo esruoc s'ti ruoy noitanigami."_

Fanboy opened his mouth to scream, but his breath hitched. The voice was right in his ear, deeper, even, floating right in the contours of his mind. His body stiffened and shook. He couldn't move. A bead of sweat trailed down his forehead. His fingers twitched. His brain clicked nonstop.

"Grrk …" he croaked, paralyzed with fear. "G...Go 'way."

The shimmer didn't move. If anything, it just shone brighter. It would be beautiful if it weren't so…invasive.

"Please," he whispered, a few more tears trailing down his face.

The voice changed. From airy and light to deep and gruff. " ** _NO_**."

The abrupt change in tone sent Fanboy into a panicked frenzy. "He-He-Help!" he begged, clutching the blankets at his sides, his pupils dilating in fear. "H-Help, anyone!"

" ** _NO_**."

" ** _NO_**."

" ** _NO_**."

"HELP!" Fanboy shrieked, chest heaving. "HELP! HELP! HELP!"

A soft knock at the door broke the spell. The shimmer vanished into nothingness and left a near-catatonic Fanboy alone. Fanboy stared, his heart thumping like mad as his brain stopped clicking. His fingers stopped twitching. Laying there in shock, it took Fanboy a moment to snap out of his trance. When he did, he let out a gasp of relief and covered his eyes.

Fanboy took a moment to gather his bearings. He whimpered and shook, feeling faint. Whatever that had been scared the living daylights out of him. He had to tell Oz!

New goal in mind, Fanboy threw the covers off his body and clumsily stumbled down the makeshift stairs to the large, yellow door. He threw it open, ready to kiss his unknown savior. He trashed the idea when he realized who it was.

Yo.

Confusion and intimidation snuffed out his relief like a flame. There were a few seconds of uncomfortable silence as the two children stared at each other.

"Hey, Fanboy," Yo greeted, a forced cheeriness in her hoarse voice. Fanboy thought of the day of the accident and tensed. She was here to hurt him again, he was sure of it. He closed his eyes shut, preparing himself for a flurry of punches. After a few moments passed with nothing happening, he cracked open his good eye. She stood there smiling, not attacking. In her hands was a bowl of steaming chicken noodle soup. He relaxed a little but kept his distance.

"Hi," he replied, hating the way his voice cracked.

Yo was smiling but her face was red and streaked with dried tears. Her clothes were crumpled and her hair was a mess, sticking out in all directions. All in all, she looked like Fanboy himself: a heap of pitiful sadness.

Refusing to let the silence consume them, Fanboy cleared his throat and tried to act casual.

"What are you doing here?" he asked. Yo's eyes darted to the bowl. Fanboy pointed. "Is that for me?"

Yo forced her eyes to look up at Fanboy. She blushed, not at all used to seeing him without his mask. She bit her lip, noting his sunken eyes and paler-than-usual skin. "Yeah. It's uh… It's "Sorry Soup"."

Fanboy blinked, looking her up and down. "Sorry, soup?"

"I want to apologize," Yo admitted. "I'm sorry for hurting you. It wasn't your fault." She paused, and Fanboy sensed a growing tension between them despite her good intentions. "I guess… I guess it just…" she trailed, eyes downcast. "I tried for a long time, Fanboy, to help you. When it wasn't enough, I blamed you. I shouldn't have done that. It's not your fault."

"O-Oh." Fanboy didn't know what to say. He didn't understand a lot of her apology but appreciated it nonetheless, so he took the soup from her outstretched hands and forced a small grateful smile on his withered face. He thought for a moment if he should tell her about the shimmering smudge, but decided against it. He didn't think she'd believe him. "Thank you. For this. And for dropping by."

Yo smiled back and the two children stood silently for a while. The sun was just peeking out, blanketing them in a hazy orange glow. For once, the heat was gentle instead of harsh, feeling like a warm hug. Fanboy inhaled the scent of the soup and raised his brows, impressed. It smelled amazing.

"Did you make this all by yourself?" he asked.

Yo shook her head, her messy pigtails swaying from side to side. "Oz's mom did it, but I helped. She's a really sweet cook."

Fanboy smiled despite himself. "You think this is good? She kills at making homemade Iced Monster Bun-Buns. I wonder why Oz isn't. You'd think she'd teach him."

Yo shifted from side to side. "Can you put it down for a second?" she asked. Fanboy squinted, visibly confused, but obeyed. He carefully set the ceramic glass bowl at his feet. Yo hesitated, and then wrapped her arms around his neck in a gentle hug.

It was calm, it was gentle, it translated everything she wanted to say but didn't know how to express it. _I'm sorry. It's okay. I care about you. I understand. I'm sad too._

Fanboy didn't expect this. Not from Yo, or anyone else besides Chum Chum. Heck, he'd never hugged a girl before, he realized, before going beet-red. His arms twitched at his sides as she pressed against him, insistent and curious. It was different than Chum Chum's hugs. He couldn't put a finger on what it was, though. Regardless of the strange newness, he returned the embrace and sniffled quietly in her hair.

"It hurts, Yo," he moaned, trembling in her hold. "I miss him. I miss him so much."

Yo pulled back to gaze into Fanboy's teary emerald eyes for a moment. "I'm gonna miss _you_ ," she murmured, tears prickling at her own shiny blue eyes. "Things won't be the same." The unexpected remarks made Fanboy exhale, a sick feeling churning his insides even as she rubbed his arms in a comforting manner. "When you come back, Oz's mom and I will make you a lot of yummy cupcakes."

"Back?" Fanboy repeated throatily, anxiety shooting up his spine. "Back from where? What are you talking about? I'm not going anywhere."

Then it was Yo's turn to look confused. "We just had a family meeting with Oz," she said slowly. "Remember?"

Fanboy looked away, contemplating the past twenty-four hours. That sounded familiar, but he couldn't recall. "No?" he squeaked, wiping his eyes and runny nose.

"The hospital," Yo stated like it was obvious. "You're gonna get help for—" She pulled away, eyes stricken with grief.

Fanboy didn't like this. Not one bit. "Hospital?" he repeated. "Why? What do I need help for? I'm not sick!"

Yo wrapped her arms around herself, expression unreadable. "You forgot again, didn't you." It was a statement more than a question.

Fanboy inhaled sharply and folded his arms. "Forgot **what**?" he gritted out, the pleasant feeling of warmth and comfort vanishing.

Yo just took another step backward and hung her head. 

"Why are you lying to me?" Fanboy snapped. "We didn't have a family meeting, I'm not going to a stupid hospital, and I am NOT sick."

"We did, you will, and you are," Yo corrected quietly. "It's Chum Chum. You're way too…" She shifts some more, trying to find the right words without confusing him more. "You obsess over him."

"Obsess over him?" he repeated. "Obsess over him?!" His voice grew loud, angry, and hurt. "What do you mean _obsess_? I'm sad, Yo! I'm sad because he died! My BEST FRIEND just died! I loved that little guy! Is that weird? Huh? Is that weird to you?"

"You're _sick_ ," she blurted. "Sick in the _mind_. Chum Chum isn't real and he never has been."

A cold wave settled over the two. She swallowed thickly as he gaped at her. His expression would have been comical if not for the situation.

_"What?"_

Yo bit her lip and said nothing more.

Fanboy's bottom lip trembled. He stood stiffly, his fists clenched at his side, his teeth grinding themselves to powder. He made a few attempts to speak but failed. His mind was on fire. His thin legs were shaking violently. Mist drifted around the edges of his vision. He was weak, disoriented. His head hurt. It was hard to think. Hard to see.

Then, as if from nowhere, a burst of fire. Fanboy's leg shot out and kicked the ceramic bowl of soup with a strength he didn't know his body possessed, sending the poor gift flying over the railing and down onto the roof of the building below where it landed with a horrible crash.

Silence, save for the stray drops of soup pattering the wooden balcony. Fanboy shook, breathing hard and staring at nothing while silent, angry tears trailed down his face. Yo trembled, hands covering her mouth and staring at him with shock. The sun disappeared behind a lone cloud, shrouding them in shadowy gray.

The warmth was gone. The comfort, the empathy, the sympathy, the apology, the forgiveness; all was swallowed up by a gaping mouth of blackness. Yo felt cold. She took one step back, then another, then another, watching Fanboy the same way a rat watches a cat. Then, she turned and sprinted down the steep staircase that led down to the roof below, leaving Fanboy frozen in an unfamiliar state of distress.

Fanboy wasn't sure how long he'd been standing there, but when he came too, the entire sky had gone grey. He blinked, slowly looking down to his foot, the one that'd kicked Yo's gift over the edge. He felt a flicker of something rise in his chest. It wasn't happiness, nor amusement, no. He didn't know what to think, what to feel. Slowly, the adrenaline drained and his body relaxed, calm. Muscles loosened, jaw relaxed.

His toes hurt.

_"That wasn't very hero-like."_

Fanboy made a u-turn back into his home, his mind numb.

…

The death of his best friend took a horrible toll on Fanboy. Bad things usually came and went. It would hurt him, but he'd move on. He was a cheerful child at heart, and it wouldn't take long for his nerves to settle. But that was before Chum Chum's death. That was when he had his best friend to comfort him in his times of need.

In the blink of an eye, he had no one. The hurt didn't leave. It stayed, infected his heart like a virus. Fanboy could not find a way to cope with his newfound despair. He couldn't find it in himself to eat, to move, nor to sleep. He felt like a useless pile of mud scraped off the bottom of a brick.

Besides the depression, he was exhausted. Terrible nightmares stole more sleep from him than anyone could imagine. From short naps, Fanboy always awoke in a cold sweat, his terrified screams echoing throughout the water tower terrace, shock surging through his veins.

His innocence was shattered. He sobbed nonstop, curled up in his blankets. His eyes twitched and his body flinched at every little creak and noise from about. His eyes darted around the darkened scenery of his home, strangled gasps emerging from his throat before hiccuping sobs. Shimmering shadows lurched, reaching out to grab him. He wrapped his lanky arms around his knees and cried as paranoia began to take over his mind, chipping off rungs of his sanity ladder. It was simply too much for him to handle. He lied awake at night, clutching at himself as the natural routine of noises became sick, twisted, and distorted in his mind.


	3. Last Day of School

In the early morn of a foggy Monday, Oz did something he should have been doing since the day a six-year-old Fanboy was put in his care: sat down and talked with him alone, man-to-man. Climbing the stairs to the terrace took more effort than he expected. He huffed and heaved, thanking the Lord for the cool weather. He would’ve been sweating buckets otherwise. 

He hauled his bulky self to the door, took a moment to catch his breath, and knocked. No answer. He knocked again. Curious, he pressed his ear to the door. Normally, the muffled sounds of video games, television, or Fanboy’s lively chatter would emit from behind the solid wooden walls. He swallowed. A quiet Fanboy meant one of three things: either he was napping, reading, or dead.

Fearing the odds, Oz knocked harder and the door gave way. He stepped inside and wrinkled his nose. It smelled musky. If Fanboy was cleaning himself, he was doing it incorrectly.

Oz coughed and peered into the dim lair. “Dude? It’s me. The Oz.”

From the loft came a small sound of acknowledgment. Oz sighed in relief and advanced to the stairs, preparing himself for what to say. All of his confidence vanished when he reached the loft and saw the state of the young boy. He fought back the urge to recoil. 

Fanboy was curled up in the bed across from his own, pressing a pillow to his chest. He’d taken every single plush cover from around the water tower and piled it on top and around himself. It looked as if he were being crushed beneath a mountain of cushions. His visible eye slowly opened, bloodshot and bleary as he stared at Oz.

The man forced himself to sit on the edge of Fanboy’s now barren bed, which squeaked under his weight, adjusting his leather jacket. He folded his large hands in his lap and tried to keep himself from tearing up. 

“Tomorrow’s the big day, Lil’ dude,” he began, unsure how to word this in a way that Fanboy could remember, and wondered if that was either due to short-term memory loss or a coping mechanism. Either way, Fanboy needed to know what was going to happen. 

“First thing in the morning, we’re driving to Rockwells to check you in. Mom and I will drop off your things in the afternoon, and then we’re going to check back on you at dinnertime.” He paused, watching Fanboy’s face. “Sound good?”

It was as if he hadn’t said a word. Fanboy was absent, giving the occasional sniff.

Oz took a deep breath. “Can you answer me?”

Nothing.

“Fanboy, I need to know if you understand what I’m saying,” the man pressed. “Please.”

Fanboy’s visible eye twitched. He gave another small sound of assent. Oz nodded, somewhat relieved. 

“I know you’re like, seriously nervous, right?” Oz ventured, remembering what his mom instructed him to ask. “I know I’d be.”

Fanboy gave no inkling that he even heard the man. Instead, he groaned, shifting and disrupting the mountain of cushions. Oz carefully steadied the mass. When he looked down, Fanboy was staring back up at him, his expression indecipherable. Oz swallowed. He was no father figure. He didn’t know how to comfort a child in distress. Not properly, anyway. He wasn’t even really a guardian. Just an older friend that Fanboy looked up to.

“Oz?” Fanboy croaked. “I wanna see Chum Chum.”

The man smiled nervously and ran a hand through his black hair. He crouched and put a large hand over his charge’s smaller one. “That’s what the doctors are going to help you with.”

Fanboy’s brows furrowed. “Doctors?” That seemed too good to be true. Doctors were miracle workers, but they couldn’t just resurrect his dead best friend. Especially since nobody seemed to know where the body was. The thought made his stomach clench.

He couldn’t get what Yo had said out of his head, calling him sick and denying Chum Chum's very existence. It confused him, made the space behind his eyes hurt. Every time he thought too hard about it, he made himself sick with anxiety.

_Chum Chum isn’t real and he never has been._

“She’s wrong,” Fanboy said aloud, catching Oz off-guard. “She doesn’t know. Doesn’t what she’s talking about. No. No. No.” 

Oz was at a loss. He was going to let the doctors pick up where he left off.

“You’re gonna be just fine.” He patted his hand and stood. “It may take time, but Yo will help—” He looked away, a trace of guilt staining his features. Fanboy didn’t miss it. “—We’re all here for you. Seriously.”

Oz waited for a few moments for a response. When Fanboy said nothing, the man gave up and began his descent back to his shop.

…

After Oz left, Fanboy drifted off, but it wasn't long before he was jolted awake by a torrent of nightmares. He gasped, clutching at his chest as the mountain of pillows toppled. A few pelted him in the face while the rest flopped uselessly to the floor. He’d only gotten two hours of sleep at that time. He’d always had a healthy sleeping schedule, and even during Chum Chum’s infamous Night-Morning escapade, he’d gotten more shut-eye than this. 

He considered his options. Staying in bed would lead to more bad dreams, but he needed the rest. Leaving for school would serve as a useful distraction, but he would end up more fatigued. 

_“Uoy wonk tahw uoy deen. Em._ **_You don’t need Chum Chum anymore_ ** _.”_

Fanboy’s heart plummeted. “Sh-Shut up,” he whispered. He covered his ears, but it did little to help. The voice was deeper, skirting around the edges of his brain and prodding at it like a parasite. 

He made up his mind to leave. Whatever was outside couldn’t hurt him any more than what was here, whatever was speaking to him. He forced himself out of bed and stumbled as the blood rushed to his legs. His senses were malfunctioning. Everything was muddled like he was swimming underwater. 

With a yawn, Fanboy fell from the loft to the floor with a tired thud and trudged to the door, skipping another meal. 

School. He needed to get to school. 

“That is what Chum Chum would want,” he mumbled. “Wouldn’t he?” He would never know.

After a blurry hike through town, Fanboy made it to class right before the bell rang. He could feel his classmate’s stares burning at the back of his head as he trudged to his desk. It was the first time he’d traveled around maskless.

As Fanboy took his seat at the back, the students all began to whisper, but he was too tired and miserable to care. He stared at his freshly scrubbed desktop, catching a glimpse of his reflection in the shiny stained surface. He looked awful. Probably smelled awful too. 

He felt a tap on his shoulder. Slowly, he turned his head. 

Yo was sitting beside him, smiling. She looked a lot better from the last time he saw her. “Hi.”

Fanboy managed a small smile, but it quickly faded when he realized where she was sitting. It was Chum Chum’s old desk, the one he’d saved for his little buddy since the first day of school in autumn. That was sacred ground she had no business meddling in. A flicker of anger traveled up his spine.

Yo must’ve recognized the warning look on his face, but she didn’t move. Instead, she opened up her green froggy backpack and retrieved a small plastic orange container filled with tiny white pills. Fanboy squinted, glancing back and forth between the container and her expectant face. The pills jumped about like crickets even though Yo held the container still, and Fanboy looked away to focus on the wall.

For a while, neither child moved. Then, Yo gave a gentle cough and shook the bottle expectantly.

Somewhere in his brain, this was routine. His movements were mechanical as he accepted the drugs without looking away from the wall. Part of him was confused that she was offering him unfamiliar pills, another part was insulted that she expected him to just take them on a whim, and the other part obeyed her without question. He gathered a trio in his palm and swallowed them dry. He did it all effortlessly as if he were used to it. Fanboy pushed that notion away before it could take root in his mind. 

Then, he stilled. Why had he just done that? He blinked and it made a clicking noise in his brain.

Yo patted his back and whispered her gratitude. “Thanks, Fanboy.” 

She was thanking him for ingesting her mystery pills? Fanboy exhaled an almost hysterical bark of laughter, earning a warning glare from Kyle sitting just in front of him. Fanboy ignored the look and buried his face in his gloved palms, peeking through the fingers. He could feel tears of overwhelming stress bubbling up behind his lids, but he screwed his eyes shut, determined not to cry. Yo watched him, feeling incredibly helpless as she watched a tear plop onto the desk. 

For now, Yo opted to give him some space. Tomorrow, Oz’s mother was going to write her a note to excuse her from class. That way, she could accompany Fanboy on the way to Rockwells Children's' Hospital. Then, Fanboy could finally get the help he needed.

Yo sat up straight, determined. Unlike many of the other townsfolk, she felt that she was the only one who truly loved Fanboy. Oz and his mother cared, of course, but Oz was too immature to take care of Fanboy’s needs, and his poor mother was growing too old to involve herself. Yo was there for him every single day to help him take his medicines, to talk with him, and although he didn’t recognize it, to always be there for him. 

Satisfied, she carefully put the container back in her backpack and zipped it up. Fanboy was going to get real help, and she couldn’t be happier for him. Still, a selfish part of her wished he didn’t have to leave. 

_'Just six hours,'_ Fanboy soothed himself, trying to lessen his anxiety by thinking calm thoughts. _'Take naps on the benches during recess and lunch. Then, go home. Just try not to indulge any…strange voices, and it’ll be fine.'_

Mr. Mufflin, the 5th-grade teacher, shuffled into the classroom with a cup of coffee in one hand and a bottle of aspirin in the other.

Fanboy could barely keep awake as Mr. Mufflin took roll call, fading in and out of consciousness until he slid out of his desk and fell limp to the floor with a thunk. Yo jumped, eyeing Fanboy’s unconscious form and letting out a small shriek of alarm.

"HUH? What was that?" Mr. Mufflin squawked, scanning his googly eyes around the room for the source of the interruption. The students all swiveled around in their seats, eyes wide and whispering amongst themselves. Not maliciously, mind; they were just curious.

“H-He fainted!” Yo gasped, dropping to Fanboy’s side and shaking him. “Fanboy? Can you hear me?”

Mr. Mufflin was NOT a sympathetic man. He glared down at the two children before thundering, "PURPLE KID."

At the sound of his teacher’s voice, Fanboy jerked awake. Yo sighed in relief and tried to help him stand, but after a moment's realization, he jumped and struck his temple against the desk. His classmates winced as he stumbled back into his seat, dazed, his head reeling while Yo sat there, shocked.

Mr. Mufflin showed little concern. “That’s strike one. Eyes up front, you little monsters.”

Yo scowled at her desk and said nothing, but Fanboy nodded dizzily in submission. 

The rest of the day was a blur. Fanboy was too tired to giggle or chat or play pranks like he normally did. Instead, he sat slouched over his desk, a blank stare on his face. Students who didn’t know about the car accident kept stealing glances at him, curious as to why their cheerful schoolmate was acting like this. Mr. Mufflin had to keep scolding them to face forward.

"…"

"…Wake up, you twit!"

Fanboy jerked awake in an instant, rubbed his eyes, and stared at his friend. Kyle looked back at him with an unimpressed glare. “You were leaning on me,” he whispered. “Stop.”

“Oh. Sorry, Kyle.”

“You were drooling as well,” he added crossly, poking Fanboy’s face. "My pullover's drenched!"

Fanboy nodded, dazed as he looked down at himself. He was half draped across the desk. How? He could hardly tell what was going on. From her seat, Yo gave Kyle a murderous glare.

“He can’t help it,” she defended.

Kyle whipped his head to glare right back at her. “He had better help it,” he hissed. “This time, for the sake of _my_ sanity.”

Yo pouted and crossed her arms. Kyle rolled his eyes and turned back to Fanboy, who was sniffling quietly. It was bizarre because he couldn’t recall a time where the superfan looked this…down, for lack of a better term.

“Em, you ARE looking a bit decrepit today,” Kyle remarked, his temper cooled. “Have you recovered?" He gestured to Fanboy’s unbandaged scar. “From the fender-bender, I mean?”

Fanboy stared, and something in his expression shifted. A flicker in his eyes and a twitch at the corners of his lips. Kyle didn’t quite recognize what it was. Realization, perhaps? Hurt? Annoyance?

“Can you cast a sleeping spell on me?" The uncomfortable silence that followed his question was tense. Kyle licked at his braces and studied his classmate carefully. This wasn’t the first time Fanboy had asked him something like that. During his first day here, Kyle was introduced to whom he thought was a boy with an overactive imagination coupled with an imaginary friend. It didn’t bother him at first. When he began insisting that Kyle was a wizard from another galaxy, THAT presented the truth of what was truly wrong with Fanboy.

Kyle shook his head. “Now’s not the time, kay?” 

Yo opened her mouth to jump in, but resisted, squirming in her seat. Fanboy looked off to the side for a moment, and Kyle couldn’t tell if he’d made the other boy angry of annoyed or WHAT. 

Pushing his fears aside, Kyle went on. “Tell me, are you feeling any better as of late? Are you happy?” Kyle waited for an answer. He didn’t particularly care for the other male, but he couldn’t suppress his interest as if Fanboy were an enigmatic specimen to study. 

Then, Fanboy did something Kyle didn’t expect: he smiled. It shouldn’t have been creepy; the kid always smiled, but this was different. It was open-mouthed and slack, lazy, and insincere. Kyle instinctively tightened the grip on the back of his chair.

“What do you think, Kyle?” Fanboy asked softly, all calm and pliant. He tilted his head to the side, his emerald, bloodshot eyes blown as he stared Kyle dead-on. _“Do you think I’m very happy?”_

Kyle went still, uncomfortable. He didn't like that tone. “I wouldn’t know,” he replied carefully. “I don't live in your mind.”

“Nope. You don't. Would you like to?” Fanboy asked, his hands shaking. “Maybe you can crack open your _Necronomicon_ and switch our brains. That’d be pretty cool. Do you wanna feel what it’s like to be me? Get a taste of your old pal’s tongue?” He giggled at himself. 

Kyle leaned back, at a loss for words. He looked at Yo for help, but she shook her head and gestured for him to turn around. Kyle obeyed, muttering under his breath about choosing battles. Fanboy watched the back of his head and giggled again. 

It caught the attention of Mr. Mufflin, who’d had enough. “Purple Kid?” He jerked his thumb to the door. “Outside.”

Fanboy’s smile only grew.

Yo sat as stiff as a board as Fanboy’s quiet giggles rose in volume.

“But he only has one strike,” she dared to argue. 

Mr. Mufflin shook his head. “There’s been a rule change.”

“That’s not fair,” Yo blurted, smacking her desk. “ _You’re_ not fair!” The class got quiet, and she realized with dismay that she’d pushed the wrong button.

Mr. Mufflin promptly kicked both Fanboy and her out of class.

...

Yo stomped down the hall with a lethargic Fanboy in tow. “It doesn’t even matter anymore,” she seethed to herself. “You won’t have to see that jerk for a long time.”

Fanboy stumbled along, gazing wearily at their conjoined hands. "Yo," he whispered, "I'm not feelin' too well."

"Don't worry." Yo smiled at him tenderly. "You will someday."


End file.
